


Bill Cipher Fell in Love

by Boku_no_Botanist



Series: Bill Cipher Fell in Love [1]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Also it's in Bill's perspective, Bill Cipher is a himbo, M/M, Mabel is the reader and like her y'all are about to lose y'all's minds, Non-Explicit, Sex Dreams, Yes this is Mabel trying to get Bill to understand his feelings, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:13:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24241864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boku_no_Botanist/pseuds/Boku_no_Botanist
Summary: Oh, well I’m sorry Bill,” Mabel does that thing with her arms to be dramatic while she glares, wide-eyed, at him. “What else do I say when you tell me you've been having fantasies about fucking my brother for nearly a year - a year!”Ah, sweet context.Bill is slow on the uptake, here, y'all.
Relationships: Bill Cipher/Dipper Pines
Series: Bill Cipher Fell in Love [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1749775
Comments: 18
Kudos: 170





	Bill Cipher Fell in Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ainasaurus_rex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ainasaurus_rex/gifts).



> This was supposed to be only 2k... but instead it's over 5k
> 
> because I don't know when to STOP
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy
> 
> \- Boki 🌸

**November 2018**

“I want to throttle you, Cipher.”

It’s not the nicest thing Mabel has said to him, yet he knows it’s a far cry from the nastiest thing she’s said to him. Bill doesn’t like thinking back about that time. Yeesh, _way_ too much blood and unnecessarily complex fleshsack emotions and hormones. But Mabel is nowhere close to becoming violent - her blood isn’t pumping enough for her to do something sporadic. Rather, she’s sitting down at her desk, forehead pressed hard against her palm as she appears to any outsider to be in absolute mental anguish. 

She almost looks about as pained as she was when Waddles had to go to the weird animal doctor ( _vet_ , Cipher, come on get with the program). He’d be sympathetic if the context for her apparent distress wasn’t so admittedly hilarious - yet embarrassing.

Oh shit, yeah, _context_ , that was a thing. An important thing! What was the context of this?

“Not the response I was expecting, Star, but ok.” he leans back against the chair he’s sitting in, silently resigning himself to minor discomfort when his stupid human neck rests along the edge of the top rail.

Still waiting on that context.

“Oh, well I’m sorry Bill,” Mabel does that thing with her arms to be dramatic while she glares, wide-eyed, at him. “What else do I say when you tell me you've been having fantasies about fucking my brother for nearly a year - _a year_!”

Ah, sweet context.

He looks anywhere but at her and tries to supply, “Well, you’re not the --”

“Like,” she cut him off, standing up from her desk, “here _I am_ , trying to be a better person and not be obnoxious and nosy like I was back in middle school, and the second I do, _you_ start having sex dreams about Dipper!”

He brings a hand to rub at the back of his neck, grimacing at the phantom pain of discomfort. Human nerves are too sensitive, he doesn’t get how they function.

Mabel seems to notice this considering her annoyed face widens in realization, and she decides to be merciful, “Here, lemme close the blinds -- be all object head-ified since you’re too tall for the chair.”

She walks past him to fix her windows, blocking the accidental prying eyes of passersby, and when the natural light of the outside is blocked away he lets out a short sigh of relief, barely registering the instantaneous twist and pull of his human face and neck weaving out of existence and letting his triangle visage take their place. Jeez, necks are one of the worst things he hates about human bodies. Pointless for a creature like him, always cracking and getting sore if he slept wrong (he always slept wrong). Awful, stupid, awful body part. He doesn’t understand what the big deal is about them.

 _Though_ , he does need to acknowledge this, it’s only fair - and Dipper told him that he needs to try being fair with things - there’s one neck he does like. Especially when it’s wrapped in his hands, and has his teeth marks nettled into that creamy, soft flesh alongside the ample amount of hickeys that were in _no way_ ever finished and --

Easy, Cipher. He jolts a little, lone eye blinking in focus. Now's _not_ the time to be thinking about that. Seriously, Shooting Star is _literally in the room with you, don't zone out!_

“Thanks, Star,” he manages to say, bringing a hand to rub circles around his eyelid.

“No problem,” she waves him off, shrugging as she walks back to her desk.

And immediately swivels her chair to face him as she sits down. Her posture is immaculate: back straight, shoulders back, head level, gaze even, hands rested casually on her lap with her ankles crossed.

Isn’t this what humans do to feel authoritative in the civilized world? Makes them look bigger and appear in control, he thinks - no, he _knows_. When human visages were popular in the Flatscape, the demons would do the same thing. He thought it was always funny when they did that because they could just as easily use their natural magic and literally expand in size until the other backed down.

 _Oh_ , the little things.

Mabel’s efforts were cute - mainly because he knew she was just excited - playing with him (right?).

Her small smile curls higher on her face, “Time to spill that tea you’ve been brewing, Bill.”

Tea? What tea? He didn’t make any-- wait, shit, no the _tea_. Oops, his bad. Stupid slang. It all falls in and out of fashion way too fast for him to keep up with it. What’s the point of trying to keep up with it all anyway.

He rolls his eye - literally, just rolls it out his head with his own flair of dramatics because he just can’t let Mabel take the crown for most dramatic - and he mentally smiles at the cackle he’s able to rip out of her, breaking her posture and making her curl over herself.

“Ew, Bill!” she wheezes, shaking her head. “Put that back! I just want to know the details.”

His eye pops right back into his head no problem and he rests back against his chair. His human face would look grim, probably. Granted, this was all his idea to begin with. He was the one who wanted to meet with Mabel and talk with her about what the hell was going on with him because she’s supposedly some sort of “feelings guru” or whatever the term was.

Where does he start?

“Maybe start with the day the dreams started?” Mabel, a real star - a true shining light in these shadowed times - throws at him, and he realizes that he’s apparently thinking out loud.

“Uh,” he rubs his hands - _ew_ , they’re sweating - along his slacks and looks around the room again - it’s super fascinating, alright? Sheesh! “Right, so… about a year ago I started having sex dreams about Dipper.”

She nodded rapidly, “Mhm, yes, established information, awesome. Possible cause?”

“Ah,” he squinted his eye, thinking (obviously). “I’m pretty sure it happened on the night he lost his virginity--”

“What?!” she jumps from her chair. “When did that happen? That _happened_?”

He leans further back in his chair. “Uh, yeah? It happened a year ago - _like I said_ \--”

“See what I mean?” she’s gonna keep going on and interrupting, huh? Okay, he sees how it is. Fine.

“I say I won’t stick my nose around and then he goes and does something like _that_ and doesn’t even tell me,” she looks at Bill, hurt. “What the hell?”

He shifts in his seat, “Probably because it wasn't a good time for him -- _no_ , I’m not getting into it.”

“Why?” She’s so indignant, she’s great. Love Shooting Star. Love her to oblivion.

“Not for me to say,” he shrugs. “Anyway, all I know is that I feel a faint sensation through the bond and then, when I’m in my own personal demon snoozeville, my subconscious is filled with Dipper in very… uh, well…”

“Sexy situations?” Mabel supplies and Bill _does not_ like the glint in her eyes while she says it. She’s smiling, too! The tease, he hates her now.

“Yeah,” he nods, curt. “Let’s go with that. And, of course, the bond let’s us feel _faint_ traces of what the other is feeling during intense situations, but I had no idea what he was up to.”

“Anyway,” he continues. He decides to stand, stretch his legs, feel less awkward - _why was he awkward?_ Seven years ago, human psychology had _no_ pull on him whatsoever. Now? Well, he might as well be one of them. In only _seven years_ , Axolotl, end him now! “He came home in the morning and explained what happened when I asked, but he didn’t want to get into it, so I left it there. I’m trying that thing where I don’t push people limits, y’know? Trying not to be a dick.”

Mabel nods, eyes suddenly a little lost, “Noted.”

He snaps his fingers in her direction, glaring at her sad expression, “Hey, hey! None of that! He’s fine now -- well, actually I think he may have some silly human trauma from it but he’s not letting it consume his life or -- whatever! Star, he’s fine.”

She lets out a small, doubtful smile -- he hates it when she lies like that. Feels wrong. Especially since he knows that there isn’t a damn thing he can do to change her mind.

Because altering memories - even if to make someone happier - is a bad thing. Dipper used the bond to ban him from doing that stuff, but even now he would choose (reluctantly) to not try and pick at her mind. Humans need to work out their pesky emotions for themselves, not have some semi-omniscient dream demon magically whisk away all their insecurities and negative feelings.

Humans have a really weird need to just do everything the hard way. It’s fascinating and mind boggling and frustrating all at the same time.

He’s thinking about this too long -- he needs to focus again. Focus! Back to the topic at hand. Why is he still walking around her room? Settle down, Cipher, jeez.

Bill pauses near her mannequin, sneering at its aura of emptiness before looking back at her, “I thought it was my subconscious reacting to the new sensation, but then I had the same dream a week later. And another two weeks after that, and another week and another three - you seeing the pattern here?”

She nods, “This was nearly a year ago, why are you just now talking to me about it?”

“Because,” he’s looking up at the ceiling this time because _why not_? It’s right there, anyway. “A lot of things happened during the year. For one, I just thought that my dumb human body was saying that I was pent up --”

“You spend four _billion_ years trapped in the mindscape of the human dimension - and about seven years in the physical world - and your body _just now_ realizes it wants some action?”

She’s casting doubt. She’s doing that thing humans do with their face when they don’t believe you. He doesn’t like it. He doesn’t need these seeds of uncertainty right now. Stop it, Shooting Star, please! You’re killing him.

“Well,” he stresses the word, “a year ago it did, and that’s just what I assumed. So after nine instances of that --”

“ _Nine?!--_ ”

“Do you want to get caught up to speed?” he turned on her, exasperated. “Yes? Then be quiet. Ok, so I decided after nine sex dreams in the course of what was reaching like five months… Was it five? Wait, yes! It was May! Pine Tree had finals looming around the corner. Things came to a peak, and I knew I had to do something about it.”

Mabel’s face scrunches in confusion. _Awesome_.

“What happened after nine dreams to make you --” she turns her head to the door when Waddles shoves himself into her room, squeaking at her for attention. She reaches for him. “-- to make you decide then to ‘take care of it’?”

Damn, he didn’t want to get into that. She’s waiting for an answer so it isn’t like he can just avoid it. The pig is there, too. Wait, why does the pig mater? Waddles doesn’t matter. Well, he matters, but not for the topic at hand. Shit, he sees Mabel reach for her drink on the desk. Should he wait a little bit for her to finish drinking it? _Wait,_ she’s already drinking -- he’s wasting time. He’s thinking too hard again. Good thing his thoughts run at least twice as fast as humans.

He turns to her, hands curled to fists as they rest against his waist, and he wonders in the fraction of a fraction of a second if maybe he needs to get his human visage on rather than the triangle, just so she takes what he’s about to say 100000000% seriously. Nah, he’s overthinking. As usual.

Though, he thinks a lot of people would be surprised to know how often he does that.

He takes a breath and lets it out just as quickly. Mabel takes another sip from her drink, tilting her head as she’s ready to swallow.

“One night I had a sex dream when I passed out on the couch, and I woke up rutting against Dipper.”

Star sprays her drink all over the tile as she coughs and sputters in her chair. He heard a faint and sharp crack, and he thinks she may have actually splintered her drinking cup in her hand from the shock. Waddles squeals in indignation, but loses his ire when he sniffs out Mabel’s back-washed drink on the floor. She looks up at him with a slack jaw and Mabel Juice staining her tights.

“ _What_?”

He throws his hands up in some form of placation that he’s seen Dipper do on occasion, “Hey, I was just as surprised when I found out.”

She puts down her drink - oh yeah, that cup’s so splintered - and drops her head to her knees, and when her hair falls to her face, she brings her fingers to comb the waves back behind her ears. She looks up but not at him. It’s that kind of look she gets when she’s wondering if whatever she heard was real or if she had too much Mabel Juice (no, she did not, and he thinks she wishes she did).

He opens his mouth to try and continue or quip a joke - he’s not sure yet, but Mabel whips a single finger at him and he lets his jaw snap shut.

Okay, she might actually get violent with him now.

He watches her take a long drag of air through her nose and then she’s glaring at him something fierce (please, don’t get violent). Waddles seems to sense her demeanor and stops licking the floor to lumber over to her side.

Bill manages to stop focusing on the weird stare the pig gives him in time for Mabel’s question.

“What _happened_?”

He looks up once, then down, and then finally at her, and he figures that the triangle visage is still his best look because at least it’s something close to him ‘looking honest.’

“One night I was coming up on three weeks of no sleep and I, just, I zoned out on the couch,” he starts, palms raised - subconscious efforts of offering peace (ridiculous endeavor). “And of course the dream happens as it usually does, and I react to it but somehow it feels different.”

Of course it had felt different. The delicate heat pressing back against him. The pressure gathered against his loins that just never felt _enough_. The soft panting noises that reached his ears. It had all been too--

“Real,” he blurts out at her. “It had all felt way too real, and then I just, well, after I peaked in the way human bodies tend to do, I was very much awake but I noticed that I was no longer sitting on the couch but lying down with… Dipper. Clutched against my chest.”

He glances at her, and he just as quickly looks away when he’s met with her intense stare.

“Asleep.” he finishes. “Believe you me, if Pine Tree had actually been awake the whole time I would’ve personally asked for the Axolotl to strike me down right there.”

“You wish he’d strike you down right now, too.” She doesn’t even hesitate, _damn._

He jerks his head in a quick nod, “Absolutely. This is just so weird for me to talk about because -- well, I mean, I’ve never experienced _this_ before.”

She nods in acknowledgement, “I guess I get it. I mean, that must’ve been weird to wake up to.”

He scoffs, finally going back to the chair and sitting down. He does his best to ignore the pig coming towards him. “Weird? Try terrifying. I had no idea I would do that in my sleep. He probably passed out on the couch while watching his shows, and my unconscious husk of a human shape decides to rub out on his unconscious husk of a human shape! I literally felt my stupid human throat constrict from the shock. My hearts _stopped_ in my chest. It was the worst feeling I’d felt in a long, long time.”

Mabel leans against her desk, her arms crossed, lips pursed, “Worse than when you lost Weirdmaggedon?”

The _audacity_! Out of impulse he wants to rip her head off, but he’d regret that (redact that from the record, please, he never regrets). A deep feeling of rage and hollowness and humiliation swirls within him. In the end it leaves him just feeling bleak and resigned.

“Nothing will come close to Weirdmaggedon, Shooting Star,” he slouches against the chair’s back. “Nothing. Though this came close-- it just hits different.”

Mabel purses her lips to the side, “Well, yeah, having your unresolved love feelings going nuts like that can be difficult--”

“What?” He cuts her off. “Love feelings?”

She furrows her brow and glares at him from under her bangs, “Uh, yeah. You’re in love with Dipper.”

…

Where did that come from?

She can read the confusion on his face and she speaks again, “Admittedly, I’m being an optimist. Dream demon or not, no one has sex dreams about someone they aren’t _at least_ attracted to.”

“I suppose. Pine Tree does fall into my preferred human type,” he shrugs, but he’s still not connecting the dots Mabel apparently has. “But the dreams don’t mean I’m in love with him or anything.”

Her expression reads nothing short of complete irritation, “You really just said that to my face?”

“Yes!” His turn to be indignant. And petty. Slightly frustrated.

She leans forward in her chair and motions at him, “I knew it the first time you said it. You are having sex dreams about my brother, who you _admit_ you find physically attractive--”

He leans towards her, “I never said he was attractive! I said he falls into my preferences. There’s a difference!”

“Semantics, Cipher!”

He throws his head back and lets out a groan of frustration, “Ok, say I acknowledge that he’s attractive to my view. So what? At most, this means I’m lusting after him - which doesn’t make me feel any better! Nor does it mean that I love him.”

She snaps her fingers at him, “I counter you with the information that you and Dipper’s emotional relationship _mixed_ with your supposed lust for him is enough grounds for you to have subconsciously fallen in love with him.”

His turn to purse his lips in contemplation - if he had any on his triangle visage. He points a finger at her instead.

“Bold assertion to make, Star. But I know for a fact that my lust is _not_ directed at him,” if he had lips, he’d be smiling. “I was able to prove that for myself.”

“Oh, _really_?” she’s curious. A good sign that she doesn’t want to be violent anymore. “Do tell.”

He lounges further back in his chair, Waddles prodding at him to get on with him (not happening), “Well, after a few attempts of trying to solve the sex dreams with those weird one night stands, Dipper had enough of feeling it through the bond and he actually offered to do it with me instead.”

“Wait--”

Sorry, Mabel, no interruptions now. “This was well after he finished his finals, so I kinda think he was bored or something, but, yeah. We fucked in the Shack this past summer. It was _great_ , but the sex dreams kept happening, so clearly I’m not attracted him or else those would’ve stopped--”

He narrowly missed the splintered cup of Mabel Juice thrown at his head. Waddles squeals loudly at his side. It doesn’t compare to the shriek of anger that she directs at him.

She’s being violent.

“Hey!”

“Bill Cipher, you absolute fucking himbo!”

He glares at her with his single eye, “What does that even mean? Why did you throw that?”

She’s standing up, snarling at him (her lips are drawn back and everything, why is she pissed?). “It means you’re hot and stupid! And I threw it because that’s what you are being! Stupid!”

He straightens up in his chair, hands resting on the arms. “Well, tell me how I’m being stupid.”

“This is the shit that makes me want to throttle you,” she huffs out. She turns and walks over to her fabric shelf and just starts yanking and pulling and - shit she has scissors - cutting. “You act like you know _everything_ , but when it comes to feelings, you don’t know jack shit, dude!”

“Not an answer.”

She bares her fucking teeth at him, _fuck_. “I am getting to it! Ugh, you’re worse than Dipper when it comes to patience.”

Turning with her frustration fabrics, she grabs some pins and starts stabbing the cuts to the mannequin with way too much force.

It’s not subtle that she wishes she was stabbing him. Nice.

“You know,” she starts to bite out. “When you like someone, fucking them doesn’t magically make your fantasies about them vanish.”

“Really?” he says back because what? Really? “That’s not how it works? I thought that because the problem wasn’t fixed that I _couldn't_ be feeling all this just for Pine Tree.”

She slams her head into the mannequin’s shoulder, “Jesus, you’re so dumb. _Bill_ , people who are in love and happily together still have sex dreams about each other. Hell, I’d argue that you’d have more sex dreams about someone after you had sex with them.”

“Oh, wait, that’s what you did,” her voice is laced with sarcasm. “You fucked Dipper, and the dreams didn’t stop, ergo, you’re in love with him. Do you get it?”

He knows that he visibly looks uncomfortable in his seat.

Yep, his silence isn’t cutting it for her. She carries on stabbing her mannequin. “What happened after you two fucked -- and by the way, I’m not gonna go for details on that one because yikes - I don’t need to know how that conversation went down, but I swear if you two fucked in our old attic bedroom, I will never set foot in there again, and I’ll curse you with help from the Axolotl.”

He nods and is so grateful that they fucked in the guest room instead. The holes in the wall still haunt him a bit, but whatever.

“So,” he starts, stretching out his legs for some sort of distracting movement. “Like I said it was great, but Dipper had a pretty bad limp the day after and I assumed it wasn’t okay for him. He never offered to do it again, so yeah. I also felt pretty bad. Kinda avoided each other for like two weeks - which is impressive considering we live in the apartment together, but whatever. Then the dreams came back in July…”

She glares at him from behind the mannequin, “It’s November now, Bill, what have you been doing?”

He shrugs and looks down. “Nothing, to be honest. Fall semester was rolling around and he didn’t look too pleased about it, so I just decided not to add to it I guess. I tried to make things easier for him, around the apartment - you humans need so many things done to be okay, it’s ridiculous.”

“ _Really_?”

“Yeah,” he rolls his eyes. “I tried doing little things. Made sure he went to bed okay, played less pranks, took care of laundry - _yes_ , I know how to do that - dishes, cleaning, made sure had had enough food to function and didn’t skip meals--”

She cuts him off with a wonderful burst of cheer, “I thought he looked a little fuller in the face recently.”

“Uh, yeah,” he glances at her. “You’re welcome. Anyway, this carries on and the dreams are more touch and go, but they’re a lot more intense and then, two nights ago, I finally fell asleep after four weeks of no sleep and the _strangest_ thing happens.”

She stops working with the mannequin, “No sex dream?”

“No, sex dream present,” he mumbles, waving her off. “It was different. I don’t know how to explain it very well, but - I mean I guess the other dreams were all fast, hard and intense as hell and all, but this time it was slow and felt gentle and still intense but in a whole new way. I also felt… I don’t know, closer than I ever was in the dreams with him before?”

Her gaze is downward, “Which is why you asked to talk. Because that’s some weird feelings shit, and you needed to work it out.”

“Yep.”

She moved from the mannequin to go sit back at her desk, Waddles trailing her. She’s rubbing her face, clearly thinking through a number of thoughts.

She turns to him, “If you weren’t in love with Dipper before you fucked, you definitely were after you did.”

He wants to slam his eye through a pike or something, “Seriously?”

“Yes.”

“How?!”

She’s throwing her hands up in frustration, and he feels like he’s the one that should be doing that. “What do you mean ‘how’? You are!”

He keeps shaking his head. Rests his head against his hands, “Nah, Star, I don’t see it.”

She rolls her eyes (rude), “Human cues are clearly beyond you, I need to play by your rules -- okay! How do you feel about the thought of Dipper fucking anyone else?”

What? What the hell kind of question was that? Why would Dipper screw someone else? He has him, even if he isn’t asking for him. Wait, why does that matter? Well even still, Dipper wouldn’t. Humans screw one another for a multitude of reasons, and - as Dipper subconsciously made it clear to Bill - Dipper was aiming for companionship. A partner. Someone to depend on. Yeah, Bill wasn’t no angel, but he thought he did well enough for them (them?). He cooked when Dipper was too tired to do so, he helped around the apartment when he didn’t have to, he waited patiently for Dipper to get home when he pulled late night study groups just to make sure he got back okay. And if anyone thought they could get a leg up on Dipper and hurt him? Well they wouldn’t stand a chance, not with Bill here. He was doing a _great job_ (thank you very much) of being Dipper’s companion - hell, they were already bondmates, it was perfect - who could ever compare to measuring up to Bill, let alone think they’d ever have the chance to touch and taste and feel Dipper’s skin against their own--

Oh shit.

“There it is.” he can _hear_ the smile in Mabel’s voice. Dammit, he’s thinking out loud again. Wait--

He’s looking at her, wide eyed, “How much--”

“Every word,” she grins as she says it. “It’s cute to hear how domestic you’ve become. The possessiveness has its charm, too, I guess.”

“I like him,” he’s in awe as he says it. “In my own way, I like him.”

“The word is ‘love’ and, yes, you do.”

He looks at her, then glances down at the floor, staring for a long time and saying nothing. He’s hunched over, it’s terrible posture.

His head shoots up, human face now because he needs to hide but also actually express himself in ways Mabel can read.

“Shooting Star, I can’t love him.”

The sound that rips from her throat is absolutely feral, he swears she was a demon in another life.

Glaring at him, lips drawn back, she demands, “Why not.”

He stands up, towering over her, but he knows his face reads anxiety, “It’s too soon.”

She’s quiet for a bit. Squinting her eyes as she looks at him, pondering, scrutinizing, judging, whatever else.

“Bill,” she starts. It’s soft and quiet, and he’s nervous that she’ll get violent again. “Bill, _please_ , are you kidding me or are you serious? _Please_! Tell me you're joking.”

“Why would I joke?” he asks. “Star, I’ve barely known him. We haven’t know each other long--”

“ _Bullshit!_ ” she seethes at him from her desk, lip jutting out in full Pines stubbornness. So familiar. “You’ve known us for seven years! Meet us back when we were twelve, and spent six years with us after Dipper found your statue in the woods. That’s plenty of time to know him!”

“Star, I’m at least a trillion,” he sounds kinda defeated a little bit. “Six years matters very little to me.”

“Bill--”

“It’s just a really short time. There’s no way it’s genuine.” he’s scratching at his head.

She sighs, exaggerated, but he can tell that she’s calming down, “Bill, some of the best literature and cinema known to history have epic love stories in the course of a week - sometimes even less than that.”

“Reality isn’t a movie, Star--,” he tries to argue - resisting the urge to go into a dissertation about how the media uses formulaic dynamics of romance to condition the population, but Mabel takes over the conversation again.

“No, but art imitates life and vice versa. Sure, the six years aren’t a lot in the grand scheme of your life,” She tilts her head to the side, smiling - a real smile, the one that says she’s having a good time, “But they were with us, with _him_. And you _liked_ them -- I know you did. That’s all that should matter. Don’t let something good like love - sentimental though it may be - slip through your fingers just because you think it’s happening a bit too fast.”

And she has a point. Back when it was always just him, time passed by without any care or worry. But now? With _him_? It’s a lot slower. Maybe he’s letting time pass slower to enjoy the moments he has with him considering that human lives are hardly a speck of dust in comparison to how long Bill’s kind lived? Maybe it was a call for him to slow down and enjoy life for what it could be?

“I just didn’t think I’d love someone again.” is all he says. He instantly regrets opening that door.

“Well, they say that life comes at you fast.” He knows Mabel’s still smiling even without looking at her. He can just feel it. “Not my business to pry like I used to anymore. I am curious, though. You tell me about them if you want. _Later_.”

And she closes that door for him. He loves Shooting Star. Loves her to oblivion!

He chuckles, mainly to himself, slightly at the entire situation. It’s been a wild afternoon. Maybe he already knew the answer deep down in his gut, but his ego was too prideful to accept the truth. Maybe he really was a himbo - or whatever Star called him. Maybe it was an absurd mix of both. It was hard to tell, and he’d never know the truth.

Still, though, loving Pine Tree? Big deal for him. He doesn’t even know if the guy loves him back. Mabel will probably tell him that he’s being stupid. Some throwaway line about how Dipper’s had a crush on him since senior year or something that would make Bill want to get publicly eviscerated for being so damn dense. He's the dream demon who nearly took over the Earth with Weirdmaggedon, but he can’t even catch on when he likes someone? What a joke. He’d laugh if it wasn’t so ego-slapping.

He’ll keep his thoughts to himself. Mabel would probably tell him that if someone’s willing to fuck you, then it might be obvious that they’re at least attracted to you, too. So, Dipper likes him back, assuming with a 99.99% certainty. Mutual attraction, requited affection. All the good stuff, awesome. Amazing. Fantastic. A bunch of other feel-good words. Excellent information. But what does he do, now? He doesn’t even know where to start. Wait, scratch that. He does already know where to start (Confess to Pine Tree, duh. Today, preferably), but he just doesn’t know how in the whole dimension to go about it.

Luckily, he’s with the greatest feelings guru of all time, she’ll help him. Words to say? Doubtful. Those words need to be his own. Motivation and ideas of execution? Definitely. Mabel’s a great collaborator.

He looks down to her, grinning, “How do I tell him?”

**Author's Note:**

> [1/20/2021 EDIT]  
> I would appreciate y'all's comments! :>
> 
> WIPdates on my profile!
> 
> \- Boki 🌸


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